


"You can't heat taquitos in the microwave, you goddamn Neanderthal"

by theisraelproject107



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AkuRokuRiSo Month 2k15, M/M, Taquitos, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theisraelproject107/pseuds/theisraelproject107
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AkuRoku prompt for AkuRokuRiSo Month 2k15! Axel is at the end of a road trip and totally ready for food and bed. One last visit to a gas station at the edge of town, however, delays his plans somewhat...</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You can't heat taquitos in the microwave, you goddamn Neanderthal"

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “You can't heat taquitos in the microwave, you goddamn neanderthal."  
> Main pairing: AkuRoku  
> Rating: M  
> Word count: 3,194  
> Prompter: Anon
> 
> Part of AkuRokuRiSo Month 2k15 :D

It was two-thirty in the morning when Axel slouched his way into the first gas station he’d come across since getting back into town. For _eighteen hours_ he had been behind the wheel of his banged-up, dusty Kia, and right now he was halfway to dying. Visiting the folks for their crystal anniversary had _seemed_ like a good idea at the time, but oh, man, the logistics were killer. He was exhausted, grimy, itchy-eyed, sore all over, and had a weird taste in his mouth. He was also _hungry._

With the Kia sitting outside, all fuelled up for the week ahead, Axel planned to use the last of his money to buy something to eat. Scratching his impatiently growling stomach as he passed through the automatic doors, he half-glanced at the cashier, a guy of about nineteen with sun-bleached hair and a bored expression texting on his phone behind the counter, and made his way into the aisles to browse the snacks. He passed by a trio of what looked like chronic pot-heads loitering by the chips and gave them a wide berth; they gave off an aggravating air, like they were looking for trouble. One of them, a guy in a trench-coat and beanie, levelled a long stare at Axel as he went by, the redhead noticing but ignoring it, avoiding eye contact, not in the mood for any shit right now.

Feeling like eating something hot, he trudged around til he found the frozen goods, standing there for several long minutes trying not to sway from weariness while surveying the goods. Eventually, his eyes alighted on a box of chicken and cheese taquitos. Seeming like a good choice for two-thirty in the morning, he opened the freezer door and reached in, grabbing the box out and heading back towards the front of the store. When he got there, the pot-heads had beaten him to the counter, the guy in the trench-coat launching into full-blown ‘dick’ mode.

“How’s it going, Roxas?” There was a leer in his voice, the cashier dragging his eyes, with obvious distaste, from his phone. He had earbuds in, a plaid shirt over a black t-shirt, and a lollipop stick poking from one side of his mouth.

Looking down at the bag of chips that Trench-coat Guy had tossed onto the counter, he grabbed it up, scanned it, and disinterestedly intoned, “Three-fifty.”

“You know,” the guy said, the leer growing more pronounced with every passing second, “if you feel like wrapping your lips around something, forget the lollipop. I can give you a better option right here and now. Put that tongue piercing to good use.” He grasped his crotch and pumped his hips for emphasis. Axel rolled his eyes.

So did the cashier. “Well, _gee,_ Seifer, as appealing an offer as that is, my mouth actually has a minimum size requirement, and this –” He pulled the lollipop out from behind his lips, the pale blue candy glistening with his saliva, “is what sets the limit. From what I hear, you don’t measure up.You can keep your tiny dick to yourself. Or, hey, treat your friends! I hear Rai’s on a diet.”

“Hey!” The big dude next to Trench-coat Guy let out a protest. “It’s not that sort of diet, you know? It’s a protein diet, for weight-lifting.”

Trench-coat Guy twisted and punched him in the shoulder, hissing, “Moron!” then turned back to the cashier. “I swear to Christ, Roxas, you watch your fucking _mouth_ with me, or you’ll regret it.”

Axel had had enough of this bullshit. “Can we maybe move this along?” he tetchily asked, gesturing to his box of frozen taquitos. “Some of us don’t have all night to stand around offering blow jobs to cashiers who obviously hate our guts. Deal and move on, Trench-coat Guy.”

All eyes suddenly found Axel, the blue ones of the cashier sparking with interest. Trench-coat Guy, on the other hand, was not pleased. Enraged at the interruption, he turned and demanded, “You want to _make_ something of it, you piece of shit!?”

 _Haa._ So _not_ in the mood for this.

Axel straightened from his hunched, tired state to extend to full height, adopting a menacing attitude. “Do _you?”_ he countered, glowering. Trench-coat Guy took a moment to look him up and down, taking in his tallness, his dark expression, the sleeve tattoos of flames that started at his wrists and disappeared up into his t-shirt. As his gaze rose to Axel’s face, he seemed to experience a moment’s alarm.

“…This guy has tear-drop tattoos!” he said, his friends suddenly frowning. “That means he’s killed people, right?” Trench-coat Guy backed up a step, then another. “…Forget this. We’re leaving,” he spat, but no amount of bile could hide the flash of fear in his face. He turned abruptly and stalked away, his friends quick to follow. The trio made a rapid exit, scuttling off into the night.

Axel raised an eyebrow, scarcely able to believe what just happened, while the cashier sighed and stuck the lollipop back in his mouth. “Guess they didn’t want their chips, after all.” Propping his elbows on the counter, he studied Axel intently as he approached the counter. “And aren’t _you_ just the regular knight-errant,” he commented, an appraising look in his eyes.

Axel shrugged. “That’s me. Saving cashiers-in-distress from shit-breathing assholes the world over.” He stuck the taquitos on the counter, his confrontational demeanour long gone, the tiredness back in full force. The cashier scanned the box, while Axel brought out his wallet and flipped it open. “I’ve got the Kia, too,” he added, swinging his head towards its lonely vigil outside, sliding out the cash. The blond rang it all up, took his money, and returned minimal change. “Thanks,” he grunted. “See ya.”

Taking the taquitos off the counter, Axel doubled back to the public microwave at the back of the store. Tearing the taquitos box open, he popped the microwave door and slid them in, thumbing five minutes on the timer and getting it going. Meanwhile, the cashier had hopped down from his stool behind the counter and was returning the abandoned bag of chips to its rightful place.

After a little while, Axel became aware that he was being watched. Glancing sideways, he saw the blond down the other end of the aisle, a suspicious scowl in place as he looked at Axel. “Hey,” he said, a mutter at first, and then, _“Hey!”_ He came striding down towards Axel, pointing aggressively at the microwave. “You can’t heat taquitos in the microwave, you goddamn Neanderthal!”

Axel glanced around. “I don’t see a sign saying not to.”

“It’s not _that._ It’s the _principle._ Everyone knows that microwave-cooked taquitos fucking _suck.”_ The guy shook his head as if Axel had skipped one of the fundamentals of Life 101. “They go all _limp_ and _mushy,_ and then you burn your mouth because the cheese is like _lava…_ This isn’t okay. I can’t let you do this.” Meeting Axel’s bemused gaze determinedly, he stated, “When they’re done, we’re putting them in the pie warmer. They need to be _crisp.”_

Axel scratched his head. “That’s really not necessary…”

“Yeah, it is,” the guy answered shortly, and before Axel could argue further, he hopped up to sit next to the microwave on the section of counter usually reserved for mixing sugars into coffees. “You chased off Seifer for me. That means I owe you a favour, and that means I am going to _save_ you from _yourself,_ and some very shitty taquitos.”

“…You don’t look like a food snob,” Axel remarked, with some amusement, baffled by the kid’s insistence but too tired to argue about it.

The cashier sent him a careful look. “And what about what you look like? Are those really tear-drop tattoos?”

Axel snorted. “No. I’m a tattoo artist. I was experimenting on myself. I’ll admit that I was drunk at the time, but even so, pretty steady handiwork for a drunk guy.”

The blond brightened slightly. “You do tattoos?”

“Yeah. You got any?”

The kid shook his head. “I’ve thought about it,” he mused, “but I don’t trust myself to pick the right thing.” He started swinging his sneaker-clad feet, bumping the heels every so often against the counter-front, becoming gradually more animated the longer they talked. Axel noticed these little things with some fascination. The guy was definitely cute. “It’s like, what if what I think is a cool idea _now_ turns out to be a major fucking mistake later, you know? Like maybe I’ll decide I hate it in a few years, or, even worse, it’s something that becomes tragically uncool, and I’ll be this old guy walking around with tattoos that everyone secretly laughs at. I don’t want to be _that_ guy.”

Axel chuckled, holding up his forearms. “Well, what about these? You think I’ll be that guy a few decades from now?”

Thoughtfully, the cashier looked at his tattoos, then shook his head. “Nah. You’re pretty safe with flames.”

“Well, _praise the Lord,”_ Axel laughed. “That’s a weight off my mind.”

The guy gave him a quick grin, the lollipop stick changing direction to poke up into the air. “So, did you do your arms, too?”

“Nah. Too awkward to get at, especially once you get near the elbow. My work partner did ’em, took him nearly a week.”

“Huh. Okay.” Entirely too casually, the guy then asked, “So is your work partner also your _partner_ partner, or what?”

With half a smirk tugging at his lips, Axel tilted his head a little to get a better look at the kid. “Me and Demyx? No way. Even without him already having a boyfriend, him and me would never be like that. Fire and water don’t mix.”

The guy was looking at him differently, now. A little more boldly, maybe. “I don’t know,” he said, reaching up to toy with his lollipop. “Fire and water. Sounds to me like that could get… steamy.”

“…Did you just, like, lower some imaginary sunglasses at that last word?”

The cashier laughed out loud, and Axel caught a glimpse, next to the blue orb of candy in his mouth, of a yellow tongue-stud. Very cute.

The microwave beeped, ruining the moment a bit, the kid jumping back down and opening it up. “Hey, I’m Roxas, by the way,” he said over his shoulder, as he pulled the box of taquitos out.

“Mm. Axel,” he responded, growing more interested by the second. Roxas started leading the way to the front of the store, where the pie warmer sat on the main counter, and Axel noticed, as he followed, that there was a honey-coloured section of skin exposed between the guy’s collar and his hair. Finding himself entranced by that patch of skin, Axel suddenly said, “You know, if you wanted, I could find a good design for you. For a tattoo.”

A little startled, Roxas glanced back at him. “What? For real?”

“Yeah. I feel like… this place, here…” He couldn’t help but reach out and stroke two fingers down the back of the guy’s neck. Roxas shivered, and… maybe it was just Axel, but the air felt more charged, all of a sudden. “…could be prime real estate…” he finished, a little more hoarsely than he’d begun.

Voice sounding tighter, Roxas replied, “Yeah. Maybe. I guess I’d need your number, though, so we could talk about it more.”

“…Yeah.”

Roxas stopped at the pie warmer, empty at this time of night, and slid the door open, shaking the individual taquitos out across the latticed shelf before turning up the heat and pushing it shut again. Grabbing a magnetic timer from the side of the oven, he set it to a further five minutes, then palmed it and turned towards Axel. With his back to the warmer, he pulled the lollipop from his mouth, just a little smaller than it had been when Axel had first arrived, and asked, without a hint of coyness, “So… wanna mess around for five minutes?” There was something like a challenge in his eyes.

“…‘Mess around’…” Axel echoed, eyes narrowing, wondering if he was understanding right.

Gaze unwavering, the lollipop twirling slowly between his fingers, the kid said, “Yeah. You and me. Kill some time. I mean, unless you'd rather sit around and discuss the weather.”

“You ask that question of a lot of late-night customers?” Axel cautiously asked, taken somewhat aback by his directness.

Roxas shrugged. “Believe it or not, no. I guess that makes you special. You should probably feel special. I hate nearly everyone in this shit-hole.”

“But not me,” Axel double-checked.

“Nope.” His eyes darted up and down Axel with open appreciation. “Kind of the opposite, actually. Maybe I’ve been behind the counter too long tonight, or something, but…” His lips were gleaming from the lollipop’s recent exit. He unconsciously licked them as he noticed Axel staring.

Swallowing, sorely tempted but not quite convinced, Axel pointed out, “Aren’t there… cameras around? Won’t you get in trouble?”

Roxas took a sliding step forwards, closing the space between them, gaze daring. “We could go to the bathroom. No cameras allowed in there.”

Axel nearly laughed. “And – customers?”

“The walls are paper thin. I’ll be able to hear any cars turn up. Not that they will. It’s late – didn’t you notice?” They were almost nose to nose, Axel able to smell the sweetness of his breath. “Time’s a-wasting,” Roxas pointed out, the timer clutched in his fist. With a slow inhalation, Axel nodded his willingness, and Roxas grabbed the bathroom key from next to the register. “This way.”

Again, Axel found himself following the blond, taunted by that patch of smooth, blank skin. His fingers itched to touch it. That, and a lot more.

They exited into the night, walking around to the side of the building. Axel, wanting a little clarification in all this, ventured, “So, when you say ‘mess around’…”

“I mean ‘mess around’,” Roxas answered, his voice drifting back. They stopped in front of the bathroom, the blond unlocking it and swinging the door open into the small, harshly-lit space. He turned to Axel. “I’m not going to blow you, and we’re not having sex. We have –“ he checked the timer, “three and a half minutes. Let’s just get to it.”

“This feels…” Axel was still searching for the right word as he followed the guy in, Roxas locking the door behind them.

“It’s about to feel a lot more,” he promised, and reached up to take hold of the sides of Axel’s head, tugging him down into a hot, eager kiss. Holy mother of God, but this kid was electric. Whatever misgivings Axel had about the location or speed of their union, it all disappeared the second that tongue-stud touched the inside of his mouth.

He grunted, wrapping his arms around the blond, who gasped for air whenever their lips parted, tongues pressing and tasting, hands roaming. Axel caressed him through his shirt, before slipping his hands underneath the fabric to scrape his nails across Roxas’ lower back. The kid shivered, let out a whispering moan, and started trailing kisses down Axel’s throat. Every inch of him was hot to touch, deliciously silken, the man able to feel the muscles tensing beneath his skin as their breaths came shorter and sharper.

The longer they kissed, the more intense it became, Roxas’ tongue-stud clicking every now and again against Axel’s teeth, the sound driving him crazy, sending a thrill straight between his legs. _No sex, and no blow jobs. No sex, and no blow jobs._ He tried to keep that in mind, tried to keep himself from getting too excited, because goddamn, if this kid got him hard without release, Axel didn’t think he’d be able to walk straight for a week.

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Axel struggled to pull away from Roxas’ eager mouth, instead twisting the boy around and pushing him forward against the sink. Roxas gasped and grabbed hold of it, heavily-lidded blue eyes rising to watch hazily in the mirror as Axel came up behind him and dragged his lips down the side of his neck. Into his ear, Axel muttered, “Let me tattoo you. You might not trust yourself, but you’d trust me, right?”

Roxas drew an unsteady breath, chin rising in the mirror. “That remains to be seen.”

With a growl, Axel began kissing and sucking at the hypnotic patch of skin he dreamed of setting needle and ink to, the blond whimpering softly, eyes sliding shut…

And the timer went off, a shrill beeping that cut like a knife through the thickening mood.

Even through the barrier of Roxas’ hand, it demanded to be heard. Sighing regretfully, Roxas held up a hand to signal for Axel to stop, and, like a switch being flipped, shrugged him off. “Damn. Those three minutes went fast.”

Axel stood in the middle of the room, panting, feeling both aroused and cheated. Still, it wasn’t like he hadn’t agreed to this. “No kidding,” he mumbled, trying to keep his frustration at bay. He touched his lips, tasting Roxas’ candy in his mouth, and lifted his eyes to the kid’s. “Sea-salt lollipop?”

Sticking it back in, Roxas nodded. “I’s mah favourite,” he said, briefly garbled by its position on his tongue. The tongue that had, just a minute ago, been pressed against Axel’s. Seeing the dazed look on his face, the blond gestured, the candy clicking against his teeth as he repositioned it into his cheek. “C’mon. Taquitos.”

Axel could not have given fewer shits about the taquitos if he’d tried. He’d have happily burned them for another five or ten minutes alone with Roxas. But the kid was like a whirlwind – sweeping in, then out again, leaving Axel dizzy in his wake.

Back in the store, Roxas used a pair of tongs to pluck each of the taquitos out, now perfectly crisp from their time in the pie warmer. “Much better,” he remarked approvingly. He handed the box to Axel, who stared down at them distractedly. Then, Roxas’ hand blocked his view, and one of his taquitos was confiscated, taking the lollipop’s place for a few munching moments. “Pie warmer tax,” he informed Axel, who nodded distantly.

Apparently taking pity on him, Roxas hesitated, losing some of his flippancy. His hand rose to his neck, then behind it, absently touching where Axel had been kissing. “So… about that tattoo…” He met Axel’s gaze searchingly. “I’ll give you my number. Call me, and we’ll… meet up. You can try and… convince me.”

Blinking, Axel nodded. “Yeah. Right. Okay.”

“And mess around some more,” Roxas added, “because that was hot. Somewhere more private next time, and for longer. If you want to.”

Axel felt himself melting inside. Whoever this kid was… in the space of fifteen minutes, he’d already all but enslaved him. “I definitely… _definitely_ … want to,” he replied, a slow grin spreading across Roxas’ face, the lollipop stick quivering between his teeth.

Axel picked one of his taquitos out of the box and bit into it… and he had to admit, it was pretty fucking good.


End file.
